(A short line forms at my checkout counter, and the first customer in line is a confused-looking man. He’s pretty out of it, but he seems friendly enough. He sets down a few items, and while I add up the purchases he browses the cigarettes, lotto, and scratch-off tickets kept behind the counter.)

Customer: “What are the cheapest cigarettes you have?”

Me: “That would be [brand]. What flavor would you like?”

Customer: “What are the flavors?”

(I list the flavors and he chooses one. Thinking he’s finished, I ring up the cigarettes too, and give him his total. He pauses in thought.)

Customer: “Actually, can I get the menthol instead?”

Me: “Uh, sure. No problem.”

(I switch the cigarettes. Luckily they are the same price.)

Me: “Will there be anything else?”

Customer: “One lottery please.”

Me: “Okay, what game do you want to play?”

Customer: “What games are there?”

(I list the games and how much they cost.)

Customer: “One [game].”

(I print the ticket and ring it up. He takes a long pause.)

Customer: “And a [different game].”

(I print ticket and ring it up. Pause.)

Customer: “And [third game].”

(The line behind him has grown by a couple people. By this point I’m a little irked by his random impulsive decisions and sluggish pace, but I follow his requests with a smile. He then notices the scratch-off ticket display.)

Customer: “What games are these?”

Me:*sighs*

(I go over the games and costs and he proceeds to pick them one at a time, despite my asking if there’s multiple things I can get him at once. The whole transaction has gone on for longer than five minutes now. Once he’s done, he drops a wad of crumpled up cash and loose change on my counter. I count out what he owes while he stares blankly. As I finish counting his change, I’m about to finally cash out the transaction.)

Customer: “Can I have another [scratch-off game]?”

Me: “Will that be it, sir? Is there anything else you want right now?”

Customer: “No.”

(I silently fume, but add the ticket and take the additional money for it. He stares at the change left in front of him.)

Customer: “Do I need more money?”

Me: “NO! You are all paid for! You are good to go. All set.”

(He gathers his pile of goods, tickets and change and leaves. Finally, the clearly annoyed customers still in line move forward.)

Next Customer: “Well, that must have been frustrating.”

Me: “Tell me about it.”

(I ring up the next customer quickly and easily and he leaves. Five seconds later, he comes back in.)

Next Customer: “He’s pissing on your sidewalk.”

Me: “WHAT?!”

(Lo and behold, only about 20 feet outside the door, the first customer has his fly open and is urinating on the side of the sidewalk, in broad daylight.)

Me: “HEY YOU, STOP IT!”

(The customer looks up, stops and zips up his fly. He then begins to walk back towards me and the store.)

Customer: “I’m so sorry; I didn’t know you couldn’t. I didn’t know.”

(As a gesture of peace, he offers me his hand that had been previously occupied only few seconds before.)

(I am nine years old, and my family has moved to a new area that has a corner store two blocks from my new house. Our town is a bit of a tourist trap, and late one afternoon, I am waiting in line to pay for the items mum needs. A tourist, dressed in costly, dressy clothes rushes through the doors and shoves in front of me.)

Me: “Hey! The line ends back there. It’s rude to cut in!”

Tourist: “Shut up!”

(The tourist then addresses the cashier, a lady who knows me well enough to know that for a kid as shy as I am, trying to stand up for myself is a big thing.)

Tourist: “I need two packs of [cigarette brand], and directions to [ritziest local hotel].”

(The cashier looks at the tourist, silently, saying nothing at all for a long pause.)

Tourist: “Are you deaf or stupid? I want two packs of [cigarette brand] and directions to [hotel]!”

Cashier: “I was just giving you the chance to prove you have any manners at all. Looks like you don’t. This girl was next, and you pushed in. That’s rude.”

Tourist: “I don’t have time for—”

Cashier: “—and I don’t have time to deal with self-obsessed jerks. Get out.”

Tourist: “No, listen! I want two packs of—”

Cashier: “You aren’t getting anything. You have 30 seconds to get out of here before I call the cops.”

Tourist: “Are you serious? You can’t be f****** serious! I want two packs of—”

Cashier: “Get out!”

(The cashier reaches behind her, and grabs the phone from the counter. She starts dialing.)

Tourist: “Oh f*** it! I don’t want to buy anything in this stupid hick town anyway.”

(The tourist flounces towards the door. I speak loudly before she gets to the door.)

Me: “Isn’t it funny how we hicks actually know what good manners are for?”